THIS IS A DISASTER [ brookstorm ]

[claythorn]

If only Claythorn could shout and scream about what she had been forced to do. The humiliating posture she was forced to stoop to- finding someone else for Otterbite to love. It was pathetic, but Claythorn couldn't risk any more reason for clanners to be suspicious of ex-colonists. She didn't need it coming out that she was related to someone who had possibly been in on holding hostage kits and- she inhaled gently as she padded through camp, expression guarded as she studied those within camp.

Otterbite needed love, then? Fine. Claythorn had asked him what his type was, and she basically only got confirmation of nothing. She exhaled quietly, vision lifting towards that of Brookstorm, one of the first cats she had seen. Swallowing her pride, Claythorn padded to her and lifted her head from where she had been hunched over. "Can I speak with you privately?"

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ┌── WHO ENCRYPTED YOUR DARK ⋅❁⋅ GOSPEL IN BODY LANGUAGE? ──┐‎

• "speech" @brookstorm
  

• 

• CLAYTHORN she/her, warrior of riverclan, eleven moons.
  ⭃ LH chocolate torbie with mismatched golden eyes, scars across her right cheek and over her left ear. cold exterior and threatening glares, built for stamina/battle and not swimming (tall/muscled)
  ⭃ mentored by darkbranch (npc) / / mentoring no one
  ⭃ no current love interest / / only child
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by dallas ↛ dallasofnines on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  

​

 

[brookstorm]

Brookstorm pauses in her grooming to look at Claythorn blankly, eyebrows furrowed for a moment. She, in truth, has no issue with the former rogue; sure, rogues killed her family ruthlessly, but Claythorn didnt. Plus, the tortoiseshell evidently meant something to the Clan, given that she now stands shoulder to shoulder with other warriors. Nonetheless, her brief free time is interrupted by the other, and Brookstorm has half the mind to deny the request. She has no real reason as to why she doesn't, but her paws push her to stand. She says nothing, but motions to a secluded corner of the camp - the other wants privacy, no?

"What is it?" Brookstorm asks, perhaps a bit too tersely. She has things to be doing, after all.​

 

[claythorn]

Bile, acrid and hot, rose in her stomach to her throat. Claythorn hated having to do this, having to be forced into any position. Brookstorm gives her a look of minor annoyance, and her silence as she gestures sets a pretense for the conversation. Claythorn exhaled as she lead them to the secluded corner of camp, and turned to back the other- she couldn't bear to sit down, ears rotating backwards as she began to speak.

"Otterbite is-" Her nose wrinkled as she paused, then tried again. Nicer. Please. So I don't have to pretend anymore. She thought to herself. "He is lonely, and has asked me to do him a favor and find potential cats to pad after." The bile was in her throat now, sitting there as she adverted her vision. Normally, she was point on with her looks, strong and unyielding, but she couldn't bear herself to look for a moment.

When Claythorn finally looked back, she finished her statement- "I don't expect you to say yes, but I had to ask."

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ┌── WHO ENCRYPTED YOUR DARK ⋅❁⋅ GOSPEL IN BODY LANGUAGE? ──┐‎

• "speech"
  

• 

• CLAYTHORN she/her, warrior of riverclan, eleven moons.
  ⭃ LH chocolate torbie with mismatched golden eyes, scars across her right cheek and over her left ear. cold exterior and threatening glares, built for stamina/battle and not swimming (tall/muscled)
  ⭃ mentored by darkbranch (npc) / / mentoring no one
  ⭃ no current love interest / / only child
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by dallas ↛ dallasofnines on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  

​

 

[brookstorm]

The stone blue molly almost laughs out of disbelief, though her expression does not shift into anything humorous. It seems as if Claythorn doesn't even want to be a part of this conversation; her gaze falls and she looks as if the contents of her stomach may spill onto the ground at any moment. Brookstorm takes offense to the suggestion, biting a quiet, "I have no want to chase a tom like Otterbite, and I've made that clear to him before." She grimaces, finding that her tone isn't the kindest. She told Robinheart she would try harder... "Sorry," she apologizes, but she doesn't elaborate immediately.

"I'm trying to be there for Robinheart right now," Broomstorm explains, hoping that would be enough for the mottled molly. After a beat, she posits, "Have you considered yourself? I mean, why do all this work to find someone who tolerates him, when clearly you do?" she lets her half lidded eyes fall to the wayside, not exactly bored with the conversation but not exactly enjoying it either. "You shouldn't be roping other cats into your problems."​

 

[claythorn]

Brookstorm's immediate response nearly relieved Claythorn. Nearly. The denial was more haunting in the fact that it meant Claythorn was going to have to keep looking, which made her sigh harshly. The apology caught her by surprise, and ears twitched, perking slightly in said surprise. "Oh. No, no need to apologize." Claythorn stated, her tail flicking low over the ground. Her mouth opens, then shuts.

Claythorn's head dips at the admittance. "I understand." Truthfully, Claythorn didn't. She had no scope on this thing called crushes or loves or mates or whatever else. She was more suited to keeping to warrior tasks the chasing that of young apprentice's daydreams. Thoughts briefly touched on Hazecloud and Lichentail, but Brookstorm's next statement sent shock and a strange curling sensation down to her toes.

Her. Her and Otterbite? The tom that was holding her heritage and her mother's death above her head like a black flag of misery. Her face contorted sharply, looking away. "'Tolerate' is generous." She muttered. She could not tell Brookstorm why she was 'tolerating' Otterbite. No secrets were safe, not when Claythorn didn't know any of these cats. She clicked her teeth together gently. "You're right. I shouldn't." Claythorn couldn't deny that, after all. No one should be made to suffer in terms of padding after Otterbite of all cats, but it wasn't like Claythorn had a chance.

A brief thought followed, wondering if she'd be ridiculed for her heritage or not- and then dismissed the thought instantly, considering how Riverclan treats outsiders. She was lucky to be standing here. "I apologize for taking up your time. I hope you and Robinheart uh.. do well." Her ears twitched, and she turned to step away.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ┌── WHO ENCRYPTED YOUR DARK ⋅❁⋅ GOSPEL IN BODY LANGUAGE? ──┐‎

• "speech" // out unless brookstorm stops her!
  

• 

• CLAYTHORN she/her, warrior of riverclan, eleven moons.
  ⭃ LH chocolate torbie with mismatched golden eyes, scars across her right cheek and over her left ear. cold exterior and threatening glares, built for stamina/battle and not swimming (tall/muscled)
  ⭃ mentored by darkbranch (npc) / / mentoring no one
  ⭃ no current love interest / / only child
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by dallas ↛ dallasofnines on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  

​

 

[brookstorm]

The way the other's expression shifts, and her tone following, causes the corner of Brookstorm's mouth to twitch up. She almost finds it funny, that Claythorn would pursue this venture without even caring for the tom she's working for. There's something in that, certainly, however Brookstorm still feels slighted to be asked at all and thus doesn't bother to burrow any deeper. She nods slightly as the other agrees with her, and an apology is handed to her in return.

"Yeah. Good luck with whatever this is," she huffs, returning to her grooming as the mottled molly turns and leaves. Whatever that was, she will not be touching it with a ten foot branch going forward. She had other things to worry about.​